


Behind the Wall

by rockwell_psycho



Category: Three Billboards Outside Ebbing Missouri (2017)
Genre: Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hugs, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Light Angst, Nightmares, Reader-Insert, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26548081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockwell_psycho/pseuds/rockwell_psycho
Summary: Based on a prompt: "We’ve been talking through the wall that separates our hospital rooms and now that I’ve finally got the chance to see you I’m scared you’ll be disappointed by me" (only it's Jason who's scared)
Relationships: Jason Dixon/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	Behind the Wall

_The room is enveloped in flames and smoke, it’s hot and it’s getting harder to breathe. Hayes’s case clenched in his hands so hard his knuckles turn white, he stands there, knowing full well he has to escape right now, but he just can’t move. He stares through the window as if he’s hypnotized. There’s a man out there. There’s a gun in his hand. And he wants to scream, to rush towards him, he doesn’t care of flames and glass and pain - he knows damn well how this pain feels like, but he doesn’t care. He’d do anything to stop him, but all he can do is just stand here, frozen in place, while the gunpoint moves to press against the man’s temple. The man now looks right into his eyes, and his lips start moving. “Calm”, - the only word he says before pulling the trigger._

He wakes up abruptly, in cold sweat, heart pounding in his chest like crazy. Maybe he screamed. Probably he screamed because he can hear already familiar knocking on the wall and a quiet yet concerned voice:

“Jason?.. Jason, are you okay?”

* * *

The hospital walls are thin, especially when you’re not asleep. When you have to lie in bed all day, it’s hard to fall asleep at night, so you were busy reading, when you heard the rustling sounds behind the wall. The sounds intensified until you heard a strangled half-moan half-scream “NO!”

Worried, you bring your hand to knock against the wall - that’s how you typically start the conversations.

* * *

You haven’t seen your neighbor in person - after a terrible car crash you stuck in this hospital with a broken leg and a couple of broken ribs, and for now the doctors didn’t allow you to get off the bed. One night you couldn’t sleep and heard someone coughing behind the wall. Someone up there couldn’t sleep either, and you got curious. So you just knocked carefully on the wall that separated the two of you.

“Hey there. Can’t sleep?” you asked simply.

“Nah…” you heard him mutter. “You?”

“Me neither. Wanna talk?..”

There was a long pause behind the wall. “Uh… What about?” your neighbor finally asked.

“I don’t know… Anything, basically. Wanna know what brought me here?”

You weren’t typically that eager to talk to strangers, but in these conditions it was way better than just lying and staring into the ceiling.

“Why not.”

You told him about the accident and about how grateful you were to actually be alive, even though it sucked being here and not being able to get up.

“Now your turn,” you said as you finished. “Why are you here?”

Another pause and a deep sigh.

“It’s the fire, I uh… I escaped from a building that was on fire and got burns… Lots of them, actually.”

“Oh… Shit.”

“Yeah… I look like a mummy for now, you know, covered in bandage and shit...”

“So you’re stuck in bed as well?”

“Yup.”

“That sucks. I was hoping you’d be able to visit me, so that I at least could see who I’m talking with.”

You heard him chuckling softly.

“Maybe later.”

“Well, what’s your name anyway?”

“Jason.”

* * *

This is how you “met” and this is how you started talking from time to time. Sometimes he was grumpy, there definitely was something he didn’t want to talk about, but you didn’t push on him. Sometimes you read to him, sometimes you told each other silly jokes… Basically you both were trying to make your stay in the hospital at least a little bit more fun.

“Listen, once we’ll be free and functional human beings again, we just have to go to the bar together and celebrate it! How’d you like that?”

“Uh… s-sure,” he stuttered a little and you thought maybe you went a bit too far. It’s weird to feel sympathy and affection for a man you hardly know, and never even saw - you only have his voice and things he wants to tell you, which is not that much, and yet... At times you really felt like you’re falling for him. And sometimes you were really bad at hiding it.

“It’s just a friendly suggestion, don’t worry,” you said casually. “Anyway, we’ll see, right?”

“Yeah, we’ll see,” he replied, voice getting less tense as you changed the subject.

* * *

“Jason?..”

“Yeah, um… I’m fine…” He’s a bit out of breath as he knocks back. “Just a bad dream. Really fuckin’ bad.”

“Oh. Was it… the fire?” you ask carefully, because you remember damn well the nightmares your car crash kept giving you from time to time.

“Yeah…” he says, voice still a bit hoarse after sleep. “Also… I wanted to save someone…” he let out a deep and slightly shaky breath. “I couldn’t have saved him anyways though.”

“Then it’s not your fault, Jason.”

“I know.” A long pause, then a quiet, barely audible, but you can still hear it in the silence of the night. “Still hurts as hell.”

The words and the way he says it make your heart shrink.

“Jason… If you wanna talk about it…”

“It’s fine,” he snaps, and you fall silent for a second, before he goes “Sorry uh… It’s just… Nevermind. He was ill anyways, so… It would happen sooner or later… I just didn’t want to think of it… But I still wish I could do something… anything, you know…”

He sounds like he’s trying to suppress a sob. The speech doesn’t seem to make much sense at first, but as you listen to him, you suddenly realize…

“Jason, um… Sorry, but… Are you talking about… the chief of police, Bill Willoughby?..”

The pause is even longer this time.

“H-how do you know?” he finally utters.

“I know his wife, Anne… Not very well, we go to the same hairdresser’s. So we used to chat sometimes. When I saw in the news about… her husband… It’s really terrible. But you’re right, Jason. I guess you could do nothing about this. Was he… your friend?..”

“Yeah... He was.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have told him this guess of yours? The topic is clearly tough for him. The silence makes you feel awkward.

“Hey, I’m really sorry for your loss, J… If I could hug you right now, I would,” you blurt.

He doesn’t answer and you’re about to hate yourself already.

“Jason?..” You ask again quietly, but you know he can hear you.

“You know… I actually already can walk…” he confesses all of a sudden.

“Okay… So you can…”

“Yeah. But I uh… I really wanna see you, y/n, but I… don’t wanna shock you with the way I look…”

“Looks is just looks. It’s not what’s _really_ important, Jason.”

“You think?”

“Yes. But if you need time…”

Some more rustle and grunts behind the wall. You can hear the bed creaking, and then, careful sounds of footsteps. Your heart suddenly starts beating a little faster at this.

The door opens. You see his dark figure in the dim light of your table lamp. He’s got messy hair and is wearing the same pajamas as you do. Even in this light you see his scars are still healing, covered with some kind of an ointment. But it doesn’t disgust you. As he comes closer, all you can pay attention to is his eyes, warm and sad.

“Hey,” he says awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot.

“Hey,” you reply simply. “Nice to finally see you, J. I promised you a hug, so…”

He smiles crookedly and leans in a little so that you could reach him. You hug him carefully, trying not to hurt the burns; his breath hitches slightly as you touch him, and he silently hugs you back after a brief hesitation.

“Thanks,” he whispers somewhere into your hair, and you smile. It feels nice. It feels like you both needed this.

“I… Better go,” he says, drawing away from you after a while. “It’s late, so…”

“Sure,” you agree. It’s better to start with small steps after all. “I’ll be glad if you come back tomorrow.”

“I will.”

* * *

As he leaves, you close your eyes, but still don’t feel like sleeping. So you knock on the wall again.

“Hey, Jason… Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “What’s that?”

“Still can’t sleep. Want me to read to you maybe?”

“Sure, why not.”

You open the book and read until you start getting drowsy.

> _"Tom, answer me true, now."_
> 
> _"Answer what true?"_
> 
> _"What ever happened to happy endings?"_
> 
> _"They got them on shows at Saturday matinees."_
> 
> _"Sure, but what about life?"_
> 
> _"All I know is I feel good going to bed nights, Doug. That's a happy ending once a day. Next morning I'm up and maybe things go bad. But all I got to do is remember that I'm going to bed that night and just lying there a while makes everything okay." *****_

You close the book at this and press your ear against the wall. All you can hear is Jason’s calm and steady breathing. He’ll be okay, you think. It’s not gonna be easy, but he will eventually. You think about his soft green eyes and crooked smile.

“Good night,” you whisper to the both of you as you switch off the lamp and close your eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> * Ray Bradbury, Dandellion Wine


End file.
